Why Tampa’s path still runs through its third line
- Ernie Norquist
- Dec 30, 2025
- 4 min read

By Ernie Norquist
Thunderstruck Sports
Stars drive headlines in the regular season. They always have. In Tampa Bay, elite skill carries the load from October through March, piling up points and pulling the Lightning through the grind. But when the calendar flips and the ice tightens, history points to a different truth. Championships are rarely decided by stars alone. They are shaped by the lines that absorb pressure, steal momentum, and make games uncomfortable.
That is where the common thread begins.
The Lightning’s most influential depth lines, past and present, have been built around Yanni Gourde. Relentless pressure. Defensive conscience. Emotional driver. That never changes. What does change is what the line is asked to be, and what the league demands in a given era.
The gold standard came together in February 2020. Blake Coleman, Gourde and Barclay Goodrow were not just a third line. They were a shutdown weapon disguised as one. They started shifts in the defensive zone and finished them in the offensive end. They punished top competition physically and mentally. They scored at the worst times, drew penalties, killed penalties, and closed games. That line did not support Tampa Bay’s identity. It defined
it.
Coleman and Goodrow played bigger than they looked. They were quicker than people thought and tougher than opponents expected. Gourde had the freedom to attack because his wings absorbed chaos and punishment. In the playoffs, that line suffocated stars and bent series. It exhausted opponents and created space for Tampa Bay’s elite skill to operate. It was not just useful. It was foundational.
Age mattered. During the 2020 and 2021 Stanley Cup runs, the Coleman–Gourde–Goodrow line was in its physical prime. Gourde and Coleman were 28 and 29. Goodrow was 27 and 28. They could be trusted with brutal minutes and return the next night just as heavy. That durability mattered over two long runs.
This version is different by necessity.
Gourde is now 34 and no longer built to grind through chaos every shift. Oliver Bjorkstrand, 30, brings finish instead of fury. Pontus Holmberg, 26, is still learning what reliability costs at the NHL level. That does not make this line ineffective. It changes the job. It will not win by wearing teams down. It has to win by keeping games under control.
The current alignment of Bjorkstrand, Gourde, and Holmberg looks different by design. This is a modern third line, built with skill first and energy second. It generates offense through possession and shot quality rather than sheer attrition. Bjorkstrand provides a legitimate finishing threat. Holmberg supports with straight lines and responsible pressure. Against softer defensive pairs, they exploit space rather than simply wearing them down.
There are limits. This group does not tilt the ice physically the way the Cup line once did. The forecheck is controlled, not crushing. It is not built to suffocate elite top lines shift after shift. Its best use has been in the middle six minutes. It works well for offensive zone starts and matchups. This lets Tampa Bay pursue secondary scoring while keeping the top six safe. This line supports the attack. It does not yet define it.
And still, that is not the whole story.
The value of this comparison is not stylistic. It is functional. The Bjorkstrand–Gourde–Holmberg line is showing traits that made the Coleman–Gourde–Goodrow line key.
The first sign is trust. Gourde is again taking defensive zone draws and hard matchups. These are shifts meant to stabilize games, not inflate box scores. That deployment matters. It is often the first signal that a coaching staff sees reliability, not just effort.
Bjorkstrand is the pivot point. He is not Coleman, but he brings something that line did not rely on as heavily: a clean release. Where the old line scored through chaos and persistence, Bjorkstrand can finish when pressure creates space. That forces opponents to respect the line. They cannot sag off or cheat toward Tampa Bay’s stars.
Holmberg’s role is quieter but familiar. He is learning to survive NHL shifts the hard way. Short routes. First-touch exits. Supporting underneath rather than chasing hits. It mirrors Goodrow’s evolution. Early energy gave way to dependable structure. Holmberg is not there yet, but the progression is recognizable.
Most importantly, this line is starting to win shifts even when it does not score. Pucks end up in safer areas. Opponents change early. The game settles after they leave the ice. That was the real value of the Coleman line. Goals were the memory. Control was the function.
This group will not replicate the brutality of the Coleman–Goodrow forecheck. That was a rare alignment of speed, bite, and timing. But the league has shifted. Possession and finish matter more than attrition alone. If this line keeps earning trust during tough times, scores timely goals, and holds games steady, it doesn’t have to be the old line to fix the same issue.
If the Coleman–Gourde–Goodrow line was a blunt instrument, the Bjorkstrand–Gourde–Holmberg line is a finer one. Both have value. Only one has proven it can leave marks that last for seven games.
Cup lines are rarely obvious at birth. They are built quietly. Trusted gradually. Remembered only after they change something important.
Lightning fans have seen this movie before. The question now is not whether history can repeat itself exactly. It is whether the next version is beginning to do the same work in a different way.


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